A devil's game
by WhovisHouse
Summary: The devil wraps his arms around England from behind, whispering words of love and affection. No one cares but me. (Mentions of sex and emotional manipulation)
1. Chapter 1

He's there again. Behind him. England knows, he always knows when he's being watched anyway, but this one. This feeling, it took a little longer to attune.

Perhaps because the being isn't anything of this plane, human or nation. No, this being is different, and it has taken a liking to England. It follows him around like a lost puppy, trailing a few steps behind as it blends in with crowds. Or, it watches him from rooftops and through windows.

It doesn't try to hide it's attraction towards The Island Nation, in fact, it makes its obsession obvious. A little too obvious when they're alone.

England shuts the door to his old home. He takes off his coat and boots and goes to relax in his living room. The fire has already been lit and a cup of tea is already waiting for him, as per usual over the last couple of months. He sits on his setee and cradles the warm tea in his hands, attempting to kill the autumn chill. The setee dips beside him, he doesn't even glance over at the being that has now joined him. He doesn't need to, he simply sighs and leans back, relaxed.

The being smiles at him, it's ice-blue eyes glinting. England looks at it. At the jet-black hair and grey ram horns that curl from it and down, framing it's, rather handsome, face. It is a devil. A devil that has taken on this twisted form of America and decided to make England's life that little bit more complicated. "What?" England asks the smiling creature.

"Nothin'" It says in that annoying drawl. 'It' is also wrong, although a more accurate description than anything England can come up with, as the creature has decided on the name 'Al' for some reason.

England hums and takes his attention away from Al, simply relaxing. Its strange, he muses, that he has become so accustomed to Al living in his home. It's only been a few months since The Devil, because that's what he _is_ , has made himself quite comfortable with England.

Al shuffles over, and rests his head on England's shoulder, his horns now gone to allow him to do so. Al closes his eyes, though England can tell he is not asleep. This action doesn't surprise England in the slightest, it is not the first time The Devil has done this and it wont be the last. England simply rests his own head on Al's as they lapse into a comfortable silence.

Yes. It's strange. But it works, for the time being.

* * *

Al encloses him, his eyes glowing in the darkness of England's room and fangs now very noticeable, as England has been on the receiving end of them a few times.

Like right now, as The Devil nips and bites and sucks his way down The Nation's torso, making him squirm. England gasps at a particularly hard bite on his naval, and lightly smacks the smirking being.

 _Yes,_ he thinks. _Yes, this is strange indeed. But it works._

* * *

"Hey England!" Said nation turns at his name to see none other than America running towards him. Black hair and ice blue eyes flashed in his mind for a moment. "So, how'd you think this meeting went?"

"As well as it ever could, I suppose." England replies tiredly. He simply wants to go home to a nice cup of tea and...His train of thought stops at a pang in his neck. These damn meetings are never good for any nation's physical health. He places a hand at the back on his neck and stretches. He opens his eyes to catch America eyeing his neck and collar-bone. His expression is carefully blank, but he looks almost...angry?

"America? What is it?"

"Those," America motions to his neck, "who gave them to you?" England blinks.

"What are you talking about? What's on my neck?" England places a hand on his neck once more.

"Those lovebites. Who gave them to you?" America steps towards England, as the brit's face explodes in colour and embarrassment. Both of his hands whip to his neck to hide whatever marks Al had left there.

England turns and whispers. "Damnit, Al, I told you not to-!"

"Al? Who's he?" America takes another step towards England. He turns back to face America. Black hair and horns flit in and out of his vision once more.

"He's-...He's no one. It doesn't matter." England goes to leave, but America blocks his way.

"Why doesn't it matter? Who is he, England?" America stares down at him, making his height advantage obvious.

"It doesn't matter, get out of my way, Al- America! America, just-...Just move!" England pushes past America successfully and rushes down the hall. Two pairs of eyes watch him closely as he leaves.

* * *

A body forces England against his front door as soon as it is shut. A mouth encloses over his forcefully before pulling away. "Why did you tell him my name?" Al asks angrily. "Why does he continue to try and get close to you?"

"It was an accident, and he wasn't trying to get close to me! Why did you leave marks on my neck? I told you nothing above my collar, you idiot!" England attempts to push the heavy body off of his own, but it just presses him harder against the door.

"I had to make them all see who you belong to. And, of course he's trying to get close to you, are you that stupid? He was going to invite you out somewhere before he noticed my marks." A finger runs up his neck at the last statement, "I was watching. You like his attention, don't you?"

England glares at The Devil, shoving him away successfully and making his way into the kitchen. Al follows him and watches as he makes tea. Al can get annoyingly possessive at times.

Being possessive makes him angry, and being angry makes him say hurtful things towards England. This makes England upset, which means Al has to apologise. But then the cycle stars again. It really is a vicious circle, and England can't escape it. He's not under some guise or emotional trap either, he actually can't escape. England's asked Al to leave before now, many times, and it simply doesn't work, so he has learned to live with it.

"You do, don't you?"

"Shut up."

"You do. You like that he's worried about you. That he cares. Heh."

"So what? So what if I do?"

"Because he doesn't. You're coming to the wrong conclusions again," Al slowly walks towards England and wraps his arms around the smaller person, resting his head on England's shoulder. "He doesn't care about you. None of them do. Only I do," Al whispers into his ear.

England pauses as he pours the tea. Al has told him this many times, at least once a day...Why would he keep lying to England like this? Unless...

Unless he's right.

Of course he's right. Al has rarely been wrong about most things, why would he be wrong about this? Other evidence supports this as well...

"America was only curious. I mean, of course he is. The little England has a partner. Someone who cares about him like they never did. Well, you're not worthy of their indifference and rumours. You're better than that. You're the British Empire. Who cares what they think?" Al breathes against his neck. He's right. He's so right. "They just want to make fun of you. Laugh at you. Only I care. You should stay with me. You'll be happy..." Al's hold tightens around England as he nuzzles the smaller mans neck.

England suddenly turns around. Al expects him to shove against The Devil's chest, but then he feels arms wrap around his torso and a face press into his neck and shoulder. Al's hold becomes more gentle as he holds England within his embrace.

"You're right." England croaks.

"I know." Al's eyes glint. "I know..."


	2. Chapter 2

England stopped most contact with other countries. Of course, he didn't cut all ties with them, that would be very dangerous. But, he kept his conversations to a bare minimum. He still attended meetings but just sat there quietly, not looking at but rather through whoever it seemed more appropriate to pay his 'attention' to.

Really, what's the point?

Al's right. Al has always been right. There's little more to discuss. They simply didn't care for him beyond his country name, trade routes and mandatory alliances.

But Al. Al cares, he always had, hadn't he? He told England so, and he's never lied. _Never_. Never to England. Because he cares about England.

Which is why England had barely left his house in over two months, preferring to stay inside. It's true, he had never been an extrovert, but even he realises that this is a new personal record. He should be proud of himself. Al should be proud of him.

Speaking of, the Devil saunters into the reading room and wraps an arm around England from behind. England had been sitting, enjoying a book, but he places it gently on the arm of his cushioned char in favour of placing his hands on Al's arms. He always gets a fuzzy feeling when Al does this. Shows England how much he cares. How much he loves.

Yes, Al loves him. He told England so. And England loves him too.

And that's all that matters in this little world the two of them had created together. Right? Right. It has to be. They're happy. At least...At least England's happy. The Brit's fuzzy eyebrows furrow, "Hey," He says softly.

"Hmn?" Arms tighten gently around him, making him smile.

"You're happy. Right?" England asks Al gently. Al lifts his head from where it rested on England's shoulder. He looks him in the eye.

"Of course I'm happy. I've never been more happy." Al smiles. His fangs show a little. England shudders, but smiles once again.

"Good." A hand reaches up to cup Al's face. The Devil leans into the touch with a small sigh.

Yes. Yes, this is happiness. This is love, surely. England can't remember the last time he was this content. Al seems to take the stress of the world away from him, as if he simply plucks England's worries away with a touch or a kiss. And, as Al predicted, none of the other nations have tried to contact him to wonder about his sudden isolation. Again, the Devil was right.

England feels a light kiss on the back of his head. Then fangs nipping at his neck making him sigh. _Yes, this is right. This is happiness._

* * *

"He hasn't answered from you either?" America speaks down his mobile phone.

 _"Nope."_ A similarly accented voice replies.

"What the fuck...What the hell's he doing?"

 _"I don't know, America. Have you asked France?"_

"Yeah, he said he didn't know anything either."

 _"His brothers?"_

"Mhm. Nothing,"

 _"Damnit. I think you should just give him time, you know what he's like,"_

"He's had time, Canada. He's had two months."

 _"Just...I dunno, America, what do you want me to say? You said something about an Al? Maybe he's just found someone and he's spending time with them."_

A pang in America's chest. "...Maybe,"

 _"Don't jump to conclusions. I'll see you later, kay? Don't do anything stupid."_

Dialtone.

America sighs. _'Don't do anything stupid'_ Canada had said.

Really, though, when does America listen to anyone?

* * *

Heavy panting and heated breaths fill the air in England's room. England grips onto curled grey horns as they move up and down in his lap. As fangs tease him and gentle touches keep him aware and afloat.

England twitches and pushes up, higher, _higher_ , _more_ , before sinking back down. Al swims into his vision once more, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and smirking down at the flushed nation. His ice-blue eyes glow.

And that's when the doorbell rings.

Al growls. "Ignore it," He licks at England's neck and jaw.

" _Hmn..._ "

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

 _Ring._

 _Ring._

 _Riiiiiiiiiiiiing._

"Oh for gods sake...!" England pushes himself up and slips on a pair of boxers and a shirt, both are way too big for him. He leans over and kisses Al apologetically. "I'll be back soon. Keep yourself busy," With a wink, England walks out of the room, stomps down the stairs and swings open the door. Whoever interrupted them better have a _damn good fucking reason-_

"Hey! You answe-..." America's voice died out as he takes in England's appearence.

Flushed face, severe bed-head, _lots_ of lovebites (and some actual bite marks too), a t-shirt and boxers that were way too big for him...

It really doesn't take an idiot...

"America. What are you doing here?" England's voice is hoarse too.

America looks him in the eye. His expression is strange... Concern, bordering on anger. "I...We were worried about you, England. But, ah, now I see why." America's gaze roams him once more, judging and harsh.

England shrinks back, "And what the _hell_ is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Just nice to know you'd rather fuck some random guy than spend time with your friends," America's gaze is stony, and a cold, heavy feeling settles itself into England's stomach.

" _Excuse me_?!" England screeches, "What I do and who I have... _t-those_ kinds of relations with are _none_ , you hear me- _NONE_ of your _DAMN_ business!" England attempts to slam the door, but a foot stops the door from doing just that, " _FUCK OFF!_ "

A body appears behind him, wearing nothing but jeans, and quickly walks over to the door. Hiding his horns and fangs, Al gently pushes the upset England out of the way and presses his heavy body against the door, stopping America from opening it. "Listen," He says threateningly, "I think it'd be best if you go. Right now,"

"Oh, this is Al, is it?" America spits from the other side of the door, "How was he? Did he give himself over like a whore? Or did he make you work for it, huh?"

"Thats _IT_!" Al rips the door open and grabs the shocked America by the collar, bringing them face to face. America's expression turns horrified at this 'Al' but Al doesn't seem to notice or care, seemingly seeing red.

"You have _THIRTY FUCKING SECONDS_ to get off of this property before I _rip your fucking throat out_!" Al screeches in America's face as England watches timidly from behind Al's shoulder. America doesn't seem to care about Al's outburst, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. England places a gentle hand on Al's arm. Al turns, and one glance at England's expression makes him sigh. He drops America, who just takes a step back. Al's curled horns and fangs had appeared during the outburst.

"England you-...he..." America struggles the string words together.

"America. This is Al." England steps forward. Al never takes his poisonous icey gaze off of America, but wraps an arm around England's waist.

"...He-...He looks like m-me...But-...Is this a fucking _trick_ , because I swear to _god_ , England-!"

"Don't be a fool," Al's words are cold and angry, "I'm not a trick. I'm not a costume or a hoax," An arm tightens around England's waist, "I am very real."

America eyes the bite marks on Al's own bare chest, "What the hell...England, is _this_ why you're ignoring all our calls?! Just for-...for-..." America motions to Al, his stance low and ready to run if need be.

 _Ig...noring calls?_

"...F-for what, America?" England presses himself against Al's side. Al sends a smirk America's way. "For love? For companionship? For someone who cares?"

"Someone who-..." America looks around, panicked slightly, " _Someone who cares?!_ England-...I care, we care, we all care, we're all worried about you!"

"Worried, or curious? You just wanted to know why I was gone. You never cared whether or not I was in any danger. You were just curious. You don't care, America, none of you do!" England spits at America. Al remains silent, but smug, his arm is still snug around England's waist.

"What?! No, England, I-"

"Well, now you know why I was gone. Go," England waves a hand, "Go and tell everyone why. Go and laugh at me. And make sure you all do it far far away," England sighs shakily. Al's hand rubs up and down his side, "I'm happy, America. Why can't you just leave me to be happy...?"

America stares, stunned. The Devil at England's side sends him a poisonous glare, and he shivers with fear. Al leads England back inside England's house, and shuts the door. America stays where he is for a few moments, watching the door before leaving silently, with a lot on his mind.


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur turned from the door, borderline hyperventilating. How dare he? How _dare_ he?

"-Hey, hey, babe. Sweetheart," Al pulled Arthur to his chest. Arthur buried himself in the surrounding warmth. "He's just-...confused. Shocked. He didn't know about me. Don't take it to heart,"

Arthur sniffled, "Why was he so shocked that I'm happy? Why is it such a ludicrous idea that I've found someone that makes me happy?"

Al shrugged, "Dunno. They don't see you like I do, the amazing little thing you are," He smirks as Arthur buries his face in Al's bare chest.

"Charmer..."

"You don't need them. You only need me. Trust me," Al grinned as he lifted England easily bridal-style, and smoothly carried him upstairs.

* * *

"Oh god Canada, he had _horns_ and a _tail_ and _he looked like me_ Jesus Christ what is Arthur _doing_!" America garbled into a pay-phone, as his mobile seemed to have run out of battery,

"Calm down America," Canada's voice soothes from the other side, "Who did you see?"

"A _guy_!" America screamed, "That Al guy! That's why he's been gone so long, he's been fucking this guy!"

"Why is that so bad, America?" Canada scolds. "He's found someone he likes. We should leave him to it. He's not really hurting anyone, or missed anything important,"

"No, Canada, you don't understand. This guy _was me_. He looked like me, but with black hair and _fucking fangs_ and wings and horns and a _fucking tail_ , Jesus Canada, he was a fucking _demon_! And England had bite marks all over him and some of them were _bleeding_ , I think he hurt England! Oh god, Canada..."

Canada was silent for a minute, "...Are you sure it wasn't just some freaky roleplay they were doing? You know England, erotic ambassador and all..."

" _It wasn't a fucking costume."_

Canada sighs, "England...What did England say again?" He sounded exhasperated.

"He said...He said that, uh...He said that I was just curious and that I didn't really care about why he disappeared."

"...Really? That's strange..."

"It's this Al." America says firmly, "He's manipulating England, I know it!"

"America. Go get a hotel room. Get some sleep. Come home tommorrow, and give England some space. Apologise to him when you think you're ready to."

"No-but-!"

"No. Do as I say." Dialtone.

God damnit Canada.

* * *

With one last erotic scream, England collapses under Al, whom finishes a few seconds after. He rolls off of England and pulls the nation's naked, shining body close to his own. England allows him to do so, a little dazed from his amazing end. He rests his head on Al's strong chest, smiling as they both catch their breaths.

"Hah...round two...?" England pants quietly, smirking up at Al

The Devil smirks, and rolls England under him again, as the nation chuckles.

* * *

America lies awake on the bed. Not his bed, an uncomfortable hotel bed. He sighs and rolls over. He just can't shake the feeling of someone watching him. Not only that, but his worry for England's wellbeing is gnawing at his nerves.

He huffs and rolls over again.

Only to come face-to-face to a pair of ice-blue eyes.

"Can't sleep...?"

Alfred froze with fear as a chill goes down his spine and a large, heavy weight settles itself in his stomach.

The being grins, it's fangs glinting in the limited light of the room. It's eyes seem to glow.

"Don't play dumb. You know who I am."

"G-get out..." America whispers as he finds his voice, "Get o-out, now...!"

The being in his bed chuckles, snapping it's fingers. Suddenly, the overhead light turns on and bathes the room in a stinging glow, causing America to blink a few times before he can focus on the person.

His jaw drops.

"Bingo," Al chuckles as America fights for words, "This is a nice hotel," The demon comments, because that's what he _is_ with his fucking _horns_ and _wings_ and _other shit_ , _fuck_. "How much was it for one night? Over ninety pounds right? Well, you are a country I guess, only the best for you..." He sings.

America swallows thickly and slowly sits up in the bed, "What do you want...?" He asks.

Al teases his bottom lip with an unsettlingly sharp canine, as he looks around the room in mock thought. He even _hums_ too. "I want you too..." He pauses, "Ah. Let me show you something." He smirks. He snaps his fingers and-..

America barely has time to react before everything goes black and he wakes up to...A room. A tiny room.

No, not a room, a wardrobe? There's clothes here, button-up shirts and scratchy woolen jumpers. It smells nice. He's alone. Where did Al go?

"Haah..."

That startles America.

"A-al..."

 _What?_

"Mnn..."

 _A man? Who is this?! Where am I?!_

This is getting weird. America gently places his hand on the wardrobe door and pushes outwords, only ever so slightly, as to make a crack for him to see outside.

And he has a very good view of Al's back (He can tell by the _fucking wings_ ). He's moving, thrusting on top of someone whose legs are in the air beside his hips. They're moaning and gripping the Devil's back.

"Aahn. Al!

Al growls, "Yeah England?"

 _England?! No, no no no no no no. This is not happening. I am not watching some fucking demon fuck England! Jesus Christ help me, this is not happening._

But America doesn't pull his eyes away.

England's screams of ecstasy get louder and more desperate, and Al encourages him with sugar-sweet words, whispering manipulative things in his ear as the smaller man is lost in himself.

America continues to watch and doesn't notice how his blood rushes south, or his hand. He doesn't really notice when England and Al finish with screams or how he, disgustingly, follows and stains the wooden door of the wardrobe.

As Al and England lie together, England seems way too happy and Al way too smug.

America watches them, as Al's eyes move to meet his own peeking through the crack in the wardrobe door. America's blood runs cold, and Al grins widely. America falls back, expecting to hit the wooden back of the wardrobe, but he just falls, and keeps falling.

* * *

Eventually he lands in his bed, back at the hotel. The light is still on and he pants, sweating.

"Enjoy the show?" A voice boasts. America turns so fast he could have snapped his neck. Al is sitting on top of the hotel's wardrobe. His smug fucking face is accentuated by curling black ram's horns.

"What-...?! What happened?!"

"Well. You just jerked off to me giving your former brother the fuck of his life. I hope you liked it. I know he did..." _America could just punch that shit-eating grin..._

"No-no...Why did you...show that to me? Was that real?!"

Al laughs. A loud, mocking, booming _guffaw_. "Of course it was real! You think I could fake his cries of pleasure, screams of my name?"

"Stop it..."

"He begged me to fuck him, and I did. I filled him with my seed until he was ready to burst," Al leaned forward and smirked, "We're still going at it, even now. Would you like to see?"

"No!"

Al chuckles darkly. "As I am what I am, I can make multiple forms of myself and have them at different places at the same time. Cool, am I right?" He admires his hand as if it's a work of art. "I can give you a live commentary of what England's begging for right now, if you wish?"

"No. Stop it. Why do you keep...saying those things? Why did you show me that? _Why are you here_?" America screams.

Al jumps off of the wardrobe. He saunters towards the panicked nation on the bed and places a finger under his chin. "One. Because I'm having fun. Two. Because you're not. And three..." He straightens his back. "Because no one will believe you."

With another snap of the Devil's fingers, everything went black once again.


End file.
